


Everything Flows, Here Comes Another New Day

by Shadow0kana



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Yoga, Body Positivity, Crowley is a Sweetheart (Good Omens), Eventual Romance, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, Gabriel is an ass, Getting Together, M/M, Yoga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28005078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow0kana/pseuds/Shadow0kana
Summary: After being ridiculed by his cousin once again about his lifestyle, Aziraphale Fell enrolls in a beginner yoga class.There, he finds the self-confidence he was missing, friends that appreciate him for who he is, and love with a certain ginger instructor.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 57
Kudos: 162
Collections: GO Meet-Cutes, Good Omens Human AUs, Ixnael’s Recommendations, Ixnael’s SFW corner, Our Own Side





	1. Breathing in

**Author's Note:**

> This is the author projecting her desire for body positivity and love of yoga onto poor unsuspecting characters.
> 
> Many thanks to [Z A Dusk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snakeandmoon/pseuds/Z%20A%20Dusk) and [Dashicra1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dashicra1/pseuds/Dashicra1) who helped we with the beta-reading and brit picking <3
> 
> CW: Implied body shaming from Gabriel.

Looking at the clock for the hundredth time, Aziraphale hid a sigh in his glass. He wasn’t quite certain how he had ended up at a pub with Gabriel and his friends, of all people, but here he was, faking smiles and forced to engage in polite but stiff small talk while suffering for the barely disguised jabs his cousin sent his way. Honestly, if Gabriel gave him one more comment about his shape, he would… probably grit his teeth and take it with a smile. Again.

“You know Aziraphale, you should come with me to the gym! It would do wonders for you!”

If only he could wipe that idiotic smile from his face. But he wouldn’t do anything.

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Another polite smile, accompanied by yet another glance at the clock.

“At his age, it might not be for the best,” Gabriel’s friend sneered. Aziraphale never cared to learn his name. Sandal-phone, or something. “He could have a heart attack.”

“Right, you’re right.” Gabriel nodded sagely. Honestly, how his soft-spoken aunt had produced such a pillock, he’d never understand. “You could do yoga! I read in a magazine that it’s the new fad for middle-aged women who want to get in shape! That could work for you too!”

A smile, polite. Another sip of his glass. A glance at the clock. How he wished he could say no to Gabriel Messenger. Or other, less polite words.

When he finally got back to his bookshop, Aziraphale felt drained. Letting himself fall into his favourite armchair, he closed his eyes.

“Come now old chap,” he spoke to himself aloud. “Don’t listen to that fool. You never did before.”

But before, he wasn’t almost fifty. He wasn’t lonely, spending all his nights with his books for sole company. Before, Gabriel hadn’t been right.

“Enough of that. We have a bookshop to open tomorrow.”

And with that, he climbed up the stairs leading to his flat, immediately going to bed without his usual cup of tea.

The bookshop remained closed for almost a week, its owner too upset to deal with the ordeal of selling books. On the fifth day, he forced himself down the stairs and opened his shop. The day passed quietly, with only a few insistent customers to sour his mood. At some point, he took to dusting the old shelves in the back, the ones that displayed his collection of misprinted Bibles. Even locked behind glass panels, they always seemed to need a good cleaning, the dust sticking to the old, yellowed pages.

The bookshop’s bell interrupted his work. A young woman entered in a flurry of skirts, obviously eager to get out of the rain. Aziraphale hurried to the front, a perfectly crafted customer service smile on his lips.

“Oh, I’m very sorry my dear,” he started. “I’m afraid I was about to close for the evening.”

The browned haired woman smiled back, wiping her soaked hair from her face.

“Actually, I wasn’t here for the books.” She rummaged through her bag, grabbing a stack of flyers from it and thrusting it in Aziraphale’s direction. “Some friends and I have a yoga studio not far from here, and we’re just starting a new class for beginners. I’m going around advertising.”

“I-I’m not sure...”

Unfazed by his hesitation, she dropped the thankfully dry flyers on his counter.

“I thought, since reading is so peaceful, maybe your customers would be interested in our classes.”

“I see.”

He did not, but was not very inclined to try and discourage the powerhouse that was facing him.

“Is it alright if I leave these here? If you have business cards, we’d be happy to return the favour.”

Oh no, this wouldn’t do at all. The last thing Aziraphale needed was a bunch of ‘hype’ young people wanting to buy his books for the ‘aesthetic’. No thank you, he already had to deal with far too many of those, and did not look forward to adding to his clientele.

“I don’t think that is necessary, really, my dear,” he took the flyers to put them in a neater stack, busying himself with the task to avoid thinking about more customers. “But I will gladly pass these to my customers, miss…?”

“Anathema,” the young woman held out her hand for a shake. “Anathema Device. I’m one of the instructors.”

“Very nice to make your acquaintance Miss Device.” He shook her hand. “Aziraphale Fell.”

“Guess we both won the weird name lottery.” She teased.

“I’m afraid so.” He glanced outside, looking at the pouring rain. “Would you like to stay until the weather lets up? Have a cup of tea perhaps?”

He didn’t miss the grimace she made at the mention of tea. How typically American, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking.

“No thank you, I still have a lot of places on my list.” She looked at him slyly. “You should come to the class. The first one is free, you know.”

“I think not. That is not quite my scene, as you can clearly see.”

“Nonsense! Yoga is good for everyone, regardless of age. One of the instructors is fifty-one, and he’s the best of us! You should come.”

Flustered, and wanting out of the conversation, Aziraphale gestured vaguely in the direction of the flyers.

“We will have to see about that. Now be careful out there, the weather does not seem to want to change.”

She smiled gratefully as he opened the door for her. Just before she left, she sent a cheeky grin in his direction.

“See you Wednesday Mr. Fell! At 6 o’clock!”

And with that, she was gone. Aziraphale closed the door with a sigh. She had been pleasant enough to talk with. That she hadn't even suggested buying a book made her a very likable girl in his book. But…

This was the second time in less than a week that someone mentioned yoga to him.

Preposterous.

Someone like him, limbs bare in tight clothes, rolling around on a mat in view of a group of younger – slimmer – people. The very thought made him laugh.

Still. He glanced back at the neat little stack of yellow flyers. He locked the door and turned the sign to ‘closed’.

He should at least take a look, so he knew what he was passing to his customers. Taking one, he made his way upstairs, turning off the lights on his way.

He didn’t touch the flyer at first, leaving it on the rarely-used kitchen table. If his eyes kept turning to it from the book he was reading, nobody would know. Simple curiosity. Something new in the careful mess that was his flat.

Giving in, he closed his book and sat at the table.

The studio’s logo took the majority of one side, with the name – _Eden Yoga_ – and address right underneath. Turning it over, Aziraphale quickly went through the information.

The class was held on Wednesdays, as the girl - Anathema – had said. The flyer advertised a free first class, and listed the required things that one should bring to class.

It’s not like he had any of that on hand.

~~~

The shop was unusually closed on Monday afternoon. After much thinking and fretting, Aziraphale had locked the door and taken the tube to go to a shop that, according to the Google, sold sportwear.

Setting a foot in the neon lit shop, he stopped. All around, he saw signs advertising new collections, sales, and all sorts of strange physical activities he never heard of before. Unsure where to start, and feeling quite overwhelmed, he stood there, the panic slowly rising, and he was getting ready to bolt when a young man walked to him with a kind smile.

“Hello sir, may I help you with anything?”

The younger man had a friendly face, although the makeup was a bit over the top in Aziraphale’s opinion. He glanced at the nametag, where a few brightly colored stickers almost covered the name – Erik.

“Ah, yes,” he smiled nervously. “You see, I’m a bit out of place here, and I’m not sure where to start looking.”

The young man seemed very understanding, but he could probably see how uncomfortable he was in such a place. He hoped he would not be asked to leave. After all, he hardly was the usual kind of customers such a shop would get. Would they even have anything fitting him?

But Erik smiled kindly.

“It can be overwhelming, but let’s see if we can find what you’re looking for.” He guided Aziraphale further into the store. “Were you shopping for yourself?”

“Y-yes, I am,” Aziraphale stammered. “I’m joining a-a yoga class.”

At that, Erik’s face broke into an even bigger smile.

“That’s great! I love yoga, it’s such a peaceful activity, especially if you’re just starting.” Obviously pleased, he gave a thoughtful look at the bookseller’s clothes. “But while these lovely clothes are quite dashing, I suppose you would need something a bit more comfortable for class, don’t you think?”

With a weak smile, Aziraphale got the rumpled flyer from his waistcoat pocket.

“I have a list, if it helps?”

Glancing at the flyer, Erik nodded.

“Eden Studio, yeah, I’ve heard of it. It’s a great place, you’ll love it!”

He gently took the list from Aziraphale’s nervous hands and looked it over.

“Alright, let’s get you all geared up!”

It took an hour, but Aziraphale left the shop feeling a lot more at ease with the whole thing. Erik had been a real sweetheart, helping him find comfortable yet not too revealing clothes – “You really don’t need to go all tight if you don’t want to! Let’s look at the looser styles, yes?” – and he even found a lovely water bottle in light blue tartan – “You don’t have to compromise on your style, darling!” – and a simple but well padded beginner mat.

After that, it was the simple matter of actually attending the class.

When Wednesday came, the bookseller had successfully worked himself into a panic once more. He opened the shop, grateful for the distraction of the very few customers he had that day, but spent nearly all day fretting and pacing around until finally – finally – it was time to close shop and get ready. Before he could second guess himself again, he quickly grabbed his bag, carefully prepared the night before, and dashed outside, barely remembering to lock the door behind him. Eden Studio was not far, a mere twenty-minute walk from his bookshop, and before he knew it, he stood before the door.

Breathing in, he quickly entered the building before he could lose his nerve. The lobby was small, with a simple front desk and only a few pictures on the cream walls. A door to the right led further inside. There were no chairs around, so he stood quietly to the side while the people in front of him checked in, apparently also here for the beginner’s class. When his turn came up, Aziraphale was delighted to see Anathema running the front desk.

“Hello, my dear,” he greeted her with a small smile. “I thought you said you were an instructor here.”

The woman’s face broke into a knowing grin.

“Mr. Fell! I knew you’d come,” she said as she got a form out for him to fill. “Let’s get you started with this free class. ”

“Aziraphale, if you please.”

“Aziraphale then. We’re a small team, so everyone pitches in when it comes to running the desk.” With a smile, she looked over the filled document, nodding approvingly. “So, this is just so we have your info on file. When you come back for your second class, we’ll take your payment and have you answer questions about lifestyle and activity levels. That allows us to give you the best experience possible.”

“You seem sure that I will be back.” Aziraphale couldn’t resist teasing.

“Oh, I am,” she retorted. “Trust me, I know these things.”

“Will you be the instructor tonight?” The question came with a nervous voice, but Aziraphale did his best to ignore it. He sincerely hoped she would. A friendly face would do wonders for his nerves.

She looked at him apologetically.

“No, I’m sorry. But don’t worry!” She quickly added, seeing his face fall. “Crowley is great with beginners, you’ll be in good hands!”

Aziraphale nodded, not trusting himself to answer back. He was kindly directed to the men’s changing room, with clear instructions about the room the class would take place in. Inside, a few teenagers were chatting excitedly about the class, and Aziraphale quickly dashed into a stall to get changed. With hands shaking from nervousness, he swapped his usual pressed trousers for light, flowing joggers and his waistcoat for a simple blue t-shirt that, according to Erik, made his eyes pop. Listening carefully, he waited until the changing rooms were empty before venturing out of the stall, carefully placing his folded clothes in his empty bag and locking it up.

Armed with an old towel, a mat and his new tartan water bottle, he quickly made his way into the room. It was already full, but he found an empty spot in the back, beside a young girl who greeted him with a nod. Nobody else paid attention to him, their eyes glued to a lanky redhead who stood at the front.

Aziraphale almost fell over.

The man was beautiful, with long crimson hair tied up in a loose bun and miles of limbs. He was wearing sunglasses, but quickly took them off after shutting a few blinds in the front windows.

Averting his gaze, Aziraphale felt himself blush. The man’s hips moved like they weren’t attached to his body, his skin-tight purple yoga pants leaving nothing to the imagination. How was he supposed to focus on anything while in the same room as this gorgeous creature? Shaking his head, he let his gaze wander over the rest of the room.

There were fifteen people, not counting the instructor – whose name he couldn’t remember – and the group seemed well balanced in term of fitness. Besides the four teenagers, Aziraphale spotted a few middle-aged women, who all seemed more interested in gazing at the ginger with sultry looks than doing anything yoga related, and an assortment of people of every age and gender.

In the front of the room, the thin man in painted-on clothes turned toward the students, flashing them a kind smile.

“Hullo everyone, I take it you’re all there for the advanced pole dancing class?” He winked at the ladies in front. “Just kidding. Welcome to this new beginner yoga class. My name’s Crowley, and I’ll have the pleasure of helping you become better versions of yourselves.”

He then started his speech, explaining the dos and don’ts of yoga, going over security procedures and whatnot.

“And never forget,” he concluded while looking intently at them, meeting each of their gaze. “Yoga is for everyone. That’s the beauty of it. Regardless of your shape, of your age, of your abilities or lack thereof, you will find something that works for you.”

His eyes met Aziraphale’s, and the blond almost fainted on the spot. Did his smile get brighter or did he imagine it?

“That being said, it can be hard on the body if you’re not careful,” Crowley continued. “There is nothing wrong or shameful about needing a break, or needing to modify a pose to suit your body. We have heaps of pillows, blocks, blankets and straps on this wall for a reason. I mean look at me, I’m fifty-one, and bony. I need all the extra padding I can get to be able to do most poses for extended time.”

He chuckled, and most of the room followed. Aziraphale couldn’t tear his eyes from him, drinking in his words like he needed them to survive.

“So, I want you to use them. And ask questions. Big fan of questions, me.” With a cheeky grin, he sauntered to his own mat, plopping down on it. “We’ll start with a guided meditation. Get comfortable everyone, in any position you like best. If you want to lie down, do it, and if you want to fold yourself like a pretzel like me, you can too. The goal is to get you all in the right headspace and make you forget about the troubles of your day.”

When everyone was seated, he made them close their eyes.

“Try to focus on my voice, and don’t try to empty your head, it never works. If those pesky day-job thoughts come, acknowledge them and let them go. Take a deep breath. In. Out.”

Aziraphale let out a shaky breath, his nervousness not quite under control yet. He let himself be guided by Crowley’s soothing voice

“Now, we’ll breathe in to the count of four, hold for the count of 3, and breathe out to the count of 5. With me now.

Breathe in...2....3....4..... hold...2...3....exhale...2....3....4....5...

Breathe in...2....3....4..... hold...2...3....exhale...2....3....4....5...”

Already, Aziraphale could feel himself relax, his body sinking into his mat with every exhale. Crowley made them breathe for a few minutes, guiding them through every inhale and exhale, until he was satisfied with everyone’s level of relaxation and Aziraphale was nothing more than a content puddle of loose limbs. He had never felt this peaceful before.

This class was already worth it, and it hadn’t really begun yet. 

“Keep your eyes closed, and notice the sounds around you. Feel the floor under your mat. Feel your clothes brushing against your body.”

Along with the rest of the group, Aziraphale let himself be brought back to the yoga room by the instructor’s gentle voice.

“Wiggle your fingers and toes. Shrug your shoulders. Open your eyes, but remain sitting for a bit while everyone comes back. You can stretch your arms and legs gently.”

Opening his eyes, the bookseller was met with Crowley looking directly at him. He felt himself tense, before slowly forcing his muscles to relax back. He answered the ginger’s smile with a small one of his own.

“That’s it,” Crowley grinned before turning his attention away. “Good morning everyone, hope you feel more relaxed now.”

The rest of the class passed quickly. Crowley talked them through a few beginner’s poses, walking around the students to gently correct a limb’s angle or position. He always spoke softly, as if afraid of disturbing the peaceful atmosphere, and Aziraphale was grateful for it. He was so used to being tense, his muscles always stiff under his clothes. This was refreshing. Toward the end, as they got into the Triangle pose – Trikonasana, Crowley had called it – Aziraphale almost fell on his buttocks when the lanky ginger walked to him.

“Aziraphale, was it?” he asked with a smile. “This pose can be a bit hard. Can you try to angle your hips a bit more to the front?”

“Like-like this?”

He tried to do as instructed, but barely moved before he almost fell out of balance.

“Almost. Do you mind if I put my hands on you?” Crowley asked gently, oblivious to the blonde’s eyes widening. “It’ll be easier if I help you.”

Not trusting his voice, Aziraphale nodded shakily, and barely kept a squeal in when warm hands came to rest on his hips. Very gently, Crowley helped him angle his hips in a more comfortable position, helping him keep his balance when his legs wobbled. Once Aziraphale was secure in the pose, Crowley gave him a gentle squeeze before letting go.

“Good job, you got it.” He was gone with a wink, his attention on another struggling student.

The rest of the class was uneventful, and Aziraphale rolled his mat with a smile on his face. He was rather proud of himself. Some of the poses were hard, and he found that he was quite a lot stronger than he thought. Carrying stacks of books all day long seemed to be a effective workout.

Just before he could leave the room, his eyes met the amber gaze of the instructor. Crowley waved at him from where he stood chatting with a couple of ladies.

“Hey! I hope we’ll see you next week!” He called out with a dazzling smile.

Aziraphale answered the wave with a shy grin before hurrying out to get changed. He quickly showered – yoga was a lot harder than he expected! – and gathered his things to leave. He happily waved at Anathema at the front desk, calling out a “See you next week!” and left at the same time as the group of rowdy teenagers from his class.

That night, he went home with a little spring in his step, feeling happier and more relaxed than ever before.


	2. Hold the pose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I won't be able to post this chapter this Friday, here is a little holiday present in advance for you! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Again, thank you to my wonderful betareaders and britpicker [Dashicra1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dashicra1/pseuds/Dashicra1) and [Z A Dusk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snakeandmoon/pseuds/Z%20A%20Dusk) for making this story better!

Just as Anathema had predicted, Aziraphale did end up going to class the next week. This time, he was greeted by a shy-looking young man who introduced himself as Newt. He was given an extensive form to fill in, with questions about his general health, his activity levels and such. Aziraphale took his time, answering truthfully even if some part of him felt quite ashamed of what he wrote on the blank lines.

Even as a young boy, he never took to running or other sports young people his age practised. A comfortable night tucked in with a good book had been far more appealing than competing in any sort of activity, and aside from taking walks in the park every once in a while, his activity levels were very low.

“You should still write it down,” Newt had helpfully answered his musings. “And if you don’t use a car, you can write that you walk to the tube. It still counts, you know.”

The rest of the form was quickly filled in. No, he had never been injured. Yes, he sometimes had trouble bending too far, his stiff joints and muscles not being very flexible. Yes, he ate a balanced diet, as long as nobody asked about dessert.

Giving Newt an embarrassed smile, Aziraphale paid for the sessions and dashed out into the changing rooms. Once more, he quickly hid in a stall to change, pausing only to answer the joyful greetings from the group of teenagers, and waited until they were out before venturing into the classroom.

Looking around, he noted that a few people had dropped, but most of their group from last time were still there. Crowley didn’t seem to have arrived yet, which made it a little bit easier for Aziraphale to breathe for Aziraphale. He unrolled his mat in the far back again, next to the dark-haired girl from last time – she introduced herself as Pepper – and sat down to wait for the class to begin. It didn’t take long for the red-haired man to join them. This time, he was wearing a pair of tight black shorts, a long-sleeved shirt wrapped around his hips as he finished getting his red locks into a bun.

“Sorry I’m late, everyone, traffic was hell.” He greeted them with a grin.

Oh, he could be late every day if it meant Aziraphale got a glimpse of his loose hair. Chastising himself, he did his best to listen, only mildly distracted by long, exposed legs.

Looking around, Crowley nodded to himself. “I see almost all of you came back,” his smile widened when his eyes landed on Aziraphale. “Glad to see you all again.”

Aziraphale couldn’t help but lower his gaze to his mat, doing everything he could to keep his blush under control. He could barely withstand the man’s presence in the room – those tight clothes really left nothing to the imagination – without making a fool of himself. To have those beautiful amber eyes focused on him made his heart do weird things in his chest. 

“Alright, everyone have a seat, and we’ll start with a meditation again.” He plopped down on his own black mat, crossing his legs in a complicated knot. “This time, I want you to really focus on your breath and on how it flows into your body.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath as the soft voice of their instructor guided them into a meditative state. It seemed longer this time, and Crowley made them focus on each body part and on how they felt whenever they would exhale. Aziraphale felt himself sink into his thick mat, relaxing muscles he didn’t even know were tense and letting out a quiet sigh of relief. If he could come to class just for those ten minutes of breathing, with Crowley’s soothing voice in the background, it would make every pound worth it.

The class itself was uneventful, aside from a small incident where one of the teens seemed to struggle with a pose. They were all getting into a runner’s lunge, which was a lot more difficult to maintain than the lanky instructor had made it seem. The poor boy couldn’t find his balance, and was getting frustrated, regardless of his friends’ gentle encouragement. Crowley came to his side quietly, not drawing more attention than necessary to the situation, but Aziraphale couldn’t help looking.

“You okay there, Wensley?” he asked gently.

“It’s just, I can’t reach the ground and it keeps making me fall…” Aziraphale could tell how embarrassed he was, and felt bad for the teen. He himself was struggling, but his short legs allowed him a bit more freedom of movement.

“Ah, yes I can see that,” Crowley nodded thoughtfully. “Hang on.”

Swiftly, Crowley fetched some sort of foam blocks from the supplies lying on the right wall.

“There we go,” he announced triumphantly.

“We can’t all be as lanky as your friend Brian here.” He teased the taller boy with a grin, earning himself a laugh, before helping Wensleydale into a lunge with his hands resting on the blocks.

Aziraphale felt warmth bloom into his chest. The man was kind and gentle, and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the sight. Of course, he already knew that from the first moment he saw the lanky man address the group. He was so passionate about his practice, and seemed to genuinely want to share it with them all and make them comfortable in his class.

At the end of the session, Aziraphale was exhausted, but smiling. They had picked up the pace a little, working up a sweat, and while he couldn’t wait to shower the grime away, he had never felt this proud of himself.

He took a swig of water before rolling his mat and making his way to the changing room. Crowley’s back was turned this time, the ladies in the class taking all his attention, but Aziraphale tried not to be too disappointed. After all, he would get to see the man again.

~~~

During the weekend, Aziraphale went back to the shop to try and get another outfit, as he was planning on keeping up with this new activity. He was very happy to see the same clerk – Erik, he remembered – working on the floor. The energetic young man obviously recognized him from his last visit, and greeted him with a big smile, wasting no time and asking about his class. Aziraphale proudly told him about it and how he signed for the rest of the sessions, before asking if he could possibly get some help with finding more clothes for yoga class.

He settled for another pair of soft grey joggers and a thin long-sleeved jumper.

“For when it gets colder,” Erik explained. “Or you can use it on top of your t-shirt to stay warm before class.”

Happy with his purchases, he made his way back to the shop and lovingly laid his new clothes on his bed.

Wednesday couldn’t come soon enough.

~~~

Aziraphale was glad for his new purchases when he got to the studio the next week. The rain was getting colder with each passing day, and the wind had him freezing before he even reached the building. Inside, Anathema flinched when she greeted him.

“You look terrible,” she announced bluntly, throwing him a white towel from the stack she kept on the counter. He took it graciously and tried to remove as much water as possible from his hair.

“I admit it was not the best day to forget my umbrella.”

He entered the changing room just as the rowdy boys came out, laughing at something the curly-haired one said. They all greeted him with a friendly smile before hurrying into class, muttering that “Pepper will have our heads if we don’t get there fast.”

Having the place to himself, Aziraphale took his time to change and pulled his new jumper on over the top of his shirt, moaning happily into the softness of the fabric.

A strangled noise, like someone just choked on nothing, came from the stalls in the back, surprising him. Aziraphale swallowed a yelp and quickly finished changing, grabbing his things as fast as he could and dashed out of the changing room. Had someone been in there the whole time? What if they had seen him change? Fighting the queasy feeling in his gut, Aziraphale took a deep breath and walked into the class. Once again, most people were already in, chatting happily while they waited for class to begin. Aziraphale took his spot and sat down on his mat. The teenagers easily started a conversation with him, curious and eager to know more about the kind man with snow-like hair who never seemed to talk with anyone else.

Taken by his conversation with them – The Them, actually, as they introduced themselves – Aziraphale missed the slight reddening of Crowley’s ears when he came into class. The flustered instructor addressed the group, encouraging them to ease into meditation like he usually did.

To his amazement, folding himself into a crossed legged position was a lot easier than it had been the last two weeks. Smiling to himself, Aziraphale breathed when instructed, and when he opened his eyes, they met with amber ones, looking at him from the front of the room. Crowley’s expression was of mirthfulness, and he raised a thumb’s up to the blonde. Proud of his improved flexibility, and delighted to have gained the attention of the beautiful instructor, Aziraphale closed his eyes again for a moment, taking in a deeper breathe. Once centered, he joined the rest of the class in the first cat cow of the day.

If this is how good he felt after only two sessions, he could only imagine how it would be after the next six. Maybe he should thank Gabriel and his crony – whatever his name was – for suggesting it.

He chuckled, earning himself a side glance from Pepper. No, he would never give them the satisfaction.

As the group became more comfortable with the different positions, Crowley got them into more advanced ones, always explaining how to ease into them without straining themselves. It was challenging, but Aziraphale quickly realized that what he lacked in flexibility, he more than made up for in body strength. Under the softness of his body, he happily discovered that his core muscles and arms were more developed than expected, most likely due to carrying all those stacks of books in the shop.

Other poses, however, were a bit harder on the older man. Towards the end of the night, Crowley got them into Virasana, the Hero Pose, and Aziraphale’s knees quite disagreed with it. He still tried to push through, but even someone as stubborn as Aziraphale knew when to quit. To his surprise, however, a pillow was thrust in his direction. Looking up at Brian, he gave him a small smile and allowed the young boy to help him situate himself on it.

“Good job, Brian,” Crowley’s voice rose from their side, where Crowley was helping another older lady with the same predicament. “I’m proud of you for looking after each other.”

With his knees relieved from the full pressure of his body weight, Aziraphale comfortably held the pose until they slowly eased into Child’s pose, the pillow helping him keep his hips aligned.

At the end of the session, Crowley came to him just as he finished rolling his mat.

“H-hey, are you okay?”

Aziraphale quickly looked up, eyes wide. “A-ah, sorry w-what was that?” he stammered, eyes fixed on the beautiful man talking to him.

“Your knees, I mean. Are they okay?” Crowley cocked his head to the side, a slight frown on his face. Now this wouldn’t do. Grabbing his mat, Aziraphale quickly got to his feet.

“Yes! I – uh – I mean, yes. I’m perfectly fine, my dear.”

Crowley’s ears seemed to redden slightly at the endearment, but he just smiled.

“That’s good to hear.”

They stayed silent for a moment, both looking for excuses to keep talking to the other. It was getting awkward, Aziraphale thought, but he’d be damned if he let the opportunity to talk to the redhead go to waste.

“I – I was wondering,” he said in a timid voice. “Have you been doing yoga for long?”

Aziraphale watched the taller man relax, probably relieved by the break in silence. His amber eyes shone bright as he told him about his practice, and how he got into it.

“It was a bit of an accident,” he started. “Ana’s mum is a family friend, and she needed someone to test her teaching skills on. I was… volunteered, you could say. Turns out it’s pretty addicting, as I’m sure you realised too.”

Aziraphale blushed at the teasing. He agreed with Crowley, but didn’t add that the lovely instructor had been a good incentive to come back. Even though yoga had, so far, been incredible for him, he very much doubted that he would have stayed had it not been for this marvel of a man, his passion and his kindness.

“Ana told me how she bullied you into coming,” Crowley continued, disrupting the blonde’s thoughts. “But what made you come back?”

Lowering his eyes, Aziraphale hesitated.

“Well,” he tried. “It’s very peaceful. A – and I felt like it was the perfect activity to, uh, get back into shape.”

Looking up at Crowley, he saw him frown, and immediately started rambling.

“I – I – I mean,” he stammered. “It’s a bit hard, you see, finding something I can do at my age! A – and of course, there’s nothing wrong with it, but I’ve been told it might do me some good to, eh, to slim down a bit, and I’m not really the type to hit the gym –”

“There’s nothing wrong with your body.”

At Crowley’s words, Aziraphale stopped short, his mouth gaping. The instructor was giving him a fierce look, softened a bit by the reddening of his cheeks. His voice wasn’t hard, but it didn’t leave room for arguments.

“I mean, it’s fine if it makes you feel better, and I’m not gonna argue that yoga is incredible for the body, but you don’t need to get slimmer.”

Aziraphale didn’t answer, caught up in his surprise. Crowley kept going.

“And look, do you even realize how strong your body already is?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t know anybody who can hold a plank this long, especially if they’re just starting. Do you know how long it took me just to be able to hold my weight like that? More than two sessions, let me tell you.”

Completely astonished, Aziraphale let him continue his rant, finding himself incapable of saying anything.

“It’s incredible, what your body can do, and that’s got nothing to do with being slim. Anybody who says otherwise is wrong.”

An indescribable feeling bloomed in the bookseller’s chest at those words.

“Plus,” Crowley hesitated a little, ducking his head bashfully. “You look good like that. Soft, I mean. Makes you look like an angel.”

Aziraphale felt his heart skip a beat, his cheeks warming up under the praise. Nobody had ever paid him such compliments before, and certainly not about his shape. He bit his lip, before smiling widely at the ginger in front of him.

“Thank you, Crowley,” he said warmly. “It’s very kind of you to say.”

“Pshh, gha, n-nah,” Crowley spluttered, suddenly losing his cool appearance. “M’not nice.”

Flustered, he started walking out of the class, his mat under his arm, under Aziraphale’s amused eyes. He called out a quick “See you next week, Angel”, before heading in the direction of the changing room, leaving a blushing Aziraphale behind.

After he got into bed that night, Aziraphale closed his eyes and thought of amber eyes, beautiful red hair, and a soft voice guiding him through the sweetest dreams.

~~~

The next week was unfortunately not as uneventful as the previous ones had been. At one point, Aziraphale had the displeasure of enduring one of Gabriel’s _visits_ , which mostly consisted of boasting to his older cousin about whatever achievement he did at work, or about that date with “the cute chick at the pub.” Even though he was used to such gloating, Aziraphale felt mortified at the number of details that were thrown his way, and usually tried to end those unfortunate meetings as quickly as possible.

“That reminds me,” the oaf carried on, “You know my friend Sandalphon? His older sister is back on the market! Her husband passed, you see, something about his lungs. And she’d be perfect for you! Quiet lady, even knits and everything.”

Aziraphale gritted his teeth.

“I thought she’d be perfect for you! I asked Sandy for her number, so you can –”

Snapping his head up, Aziraphale sharply turned to his younger cousin from where he was busying himself with his inventory.

“Out of the question,” he said harshly. “I am _not_ interested.”

Gabriel’s ever-present smile stiffened, but he kept going.

“Come on, Zira,” he tried to reason. “Don’t you want to settle down with someone? At your age, it’s not gonna get any easier!”

Aziraphale closed his eyes, remembering his talk with Crowley. There was nothing wrong with him. Not with his age, not with his body, he repeated to himself a few times. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and glared at his cousin.

“I said, I am not interested,” he said sternly. “Your advice is, quite frankly, unwelcomed, and I would appreciate it if you let me work.”

Taken aback, the taller man tried once more, taking a step toward the bookseller, but Aziraphale stood his ground.

“Good day, Gabriel.”

And with that, he turned back to his inventory books. Only when the door slammed behind Gabriel did he let himself breathe.

“And my name is _Aziraphale_ ,” he said to himself. There was always next time.

~~~

The sessions got more challenging after that. While they progressed into harder intermediate positions, that alone was not what made it difficult for Aziraphale. The real challenge, in fact, was not making a fool of himself while watching Crowley showing off.

At the demand of his students, Crowley had taken to showing them more advanced yoga poses after class, and Aziraphale was at his wits' end. Watching Crowley’s lean body stretch and twist in ways that defied the general functioning of the human body was mesmerizing, and the bookseller was glad to stand in the far back, where nobody would catch him ogling their beautiful instructor. Although he did catch Pepper snort once or twice, both amused and exasperated at the longing looks he sent in the redhead’s direction.

Of course, the winks said redhead sent his way did not help in the slightest.

Apparently oblivious to the sultry looks he got from the flock of ladies in the front, Crowley seemed to make it his goal to fluster poor Aziraphale, bending farther than a normal spine should allow.

Did this man’s body contain any bones at all? And, Aziraphale wondered, distracted, how far exactly could he stretch?

Best not to let his thoughts go down that path.

At the end of class, as was their new habit, he stayed to chat with Crowley while everyone got back into the changing rooms. This night was no different, and both men happily chatted away until Newt poked his head in the room.

“Excuse me,” he interrupted shyly. “I’m getting ready to close up.”

Surprised, Crowley looked around, seeing that everyone else had already left.

“Sorry about that.” He guided them both out, locking the room and making his way to the changing rooms. “Let’s not keep Ana waiting, she’ll have our heads if we keep Newt all night!”

Newton quickly ducked away, hiding a blush, and Aziraphale followed the redhead.

“I was not aware that they were together.”

“Oh, yeah,” Crowley yawned. “They started dating not long after Newton started here.”

Crowley shamelessly pulled off his shirt, rummaging in his sports bag for a change of clothes.

Aziraphale… stared.

He hadn’t meant to, but the sight of those lean muscles on display short-circuited the polite part of his brain, leaving him a puddle of blushing longing. Finding a clean shirt, Crowley turned to the blonde, an eyebrow arched in question.

“Are you… getting changed?”

Letting out a high-pitched squeak, Aziraphale quickly grabbed his bag and rushed into a stall, his slowly rebooting brain catching up with what just transpired. Cursing himself for his behaviour, he quickly changed back into his usual three-piece outfit, taking a moment to breathe and get his flush under control.

Peeking out, he saw Crowley sprawled on a bench, watching something on his phone.

“S – Sorry for making you wait.”

Looking up, the redhead grinned, apparently unaware of the myriad of thoughts crossing Aziraphale’s mind at the sight of the half-dressed instructor. Or maybe not, Aziraphale thought, his cheeks warming when Crowley’s smile turned into a smirk. Maybe he knew exactly what he had done to him.

“L – Let’s go,” he shook his head slightly and hurried out of the changing room, Crowley following behind him. “I would hate for Anathema to get angry at poor Newt.”

“Nah, he’ll be fine. One look at those puppy eyes of his and she’ll come around.”

They joined Newton outside and wished him a good night before turning back to each other. They let the silence envelope them, both unwilling to end the night just yet. The air was chilly, and Crowley soon started to shiver under the thin material of his jacket. With a pang in his heart, Aziraphale opened his mouth to say goodbye.

“Would you like to have dinner sometime?” The words came out before he could stop them, and his eyes widened in panic. Before he could retract his question, Crowley ducked his head to catch his gaze.

“Like…a date?” he asked. Aziraphale thought he heard a bit of hope in his voice, and he felt emboldened.

“W – Well, I mean – if – it could be.”

Crowley looked pleased, very pleased, and it did strange things to Aziraphale’s heart.

“Sure, I’d like that Angel,” he answered in a soft, but happy voice. “Next Saturday?”

“That would be perfect, dear boy.”

They quickly exchanged numbers, Crowley’s fingers typing rapidly before vanishing back into his pockets, and parted ways. Aziraphale felt lighter than ever, beaming at everyone he met on his way home.

He had a _date_. With _Crowley_.

Saturday couldn’t come soon enough.


	3. Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story comes to an end, but for Aziraphale, it's just the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As for most people, 2021 hit me like a train. This last part of the story was supposed to come out during the first week of January, but it simply wasn't possible. In a way, writing it at the time I did was a big part of my own healing, and it's been a constant companion in the last months. 
> 
> I want to give special thanks to [Jars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cas_bunny/pseuds/jars) and the whole DIWS discord server for being there to support me. I love you all. 
> 
> Also, extra extra thanks to my wonderful, incredible beta's, [Z A Dusk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snakeandmoon/pseuds/Z%20A%20Dusk) and [Dashicra1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dashicra1/pseuds/Dashicra1) , who made this story 10 times better than it was.

Saturday night found Aziraphale in a frenzy, panicking over what shade of cream to wear and trying to choose the bow tie that would complement his eyes perfectly.

Of course, he knew he shouldn’t be worrying this much. From the few interactions he and Crowley had, he knew that the man was at least interested in his fussy self. Previous potential dates, of which there’d been horribly few, had not been this accepting of him. He took a deep breath to center himself. The classes were coming in very handy. In a few minutes he had calmed down significantly, and he finally settled on a nice tan bowtie with a light blue tartan pattern that would be quite lovely with his best waistcoat.

Making his way downstairs, he stopped to look at his reflection in a dusty window, fluffing his hair one last time before sitting down in a plush chair to wait for his date. Crowley and he had agreed to meet at the bookshop, since the theatre was within walking distance. Crowley had taken it upon himself to choose the show they would see, something that Aziraphale still had a bit of trouble wrapping his mind around. The few men he had dated in the past had been more than happy to have him choose, less interested in the finer arts than in what would usually come after. He had to admit that letting someone else make the effort to plan was quite refreshing, but also a little daunting.

A knock on the door interrupted Aziraphale’s thoughts.

Oh, how long had he been sitting there?

When he opened the door, Aziraphale barely suppressed the whine threatening to escape him.

With his hair in an artful messy bun and clad in skin-tight black jeans, Crowley was a vision. His usual sunglasses were tucked into his shirt, probably due to the setting sun.

“Hey, Aziraphale,” he greeted him with a smile. “Ready to go?”

“Just a moment, dear boy.”

Aziraphale locked the door, hiding his blushing face. He hadn’t missed Crowley’s appreciative look as he took in his attire.

“’Course, Angel.”

Aziraphale hid his grin at the endearment, glad that the silly nickname he had earned seemed there to stay. 

The walk to the theatre was uneventful, both men falling into an easy and comfortable conversation. Owning a shop often meant small talk with customers, which usually annoyed him, but at the moment Aziraphale didn’t mind a little chit chat. When they reached the theatre, all nervousness and tension seemed to have left his body, leaving him free to enjoy their night out.

Crowley had chosen a modern adaptation of King Lear. It wasn’t quite what Aziraphale would have chosen, given his love for the classic - and that lovely production of Hamlet being presented at the same theatre - but he tried to keep an open mind. He had always thought the original story to be very interesting, while simple, and perhaps even a modern production would successfully capture the essence of the story.

He sincerely hoped so.

To his surprise, he found himself enjoying the play a lot more than he anticipated, perhaps due to the beautiful redhead sitting beside him. Crowley seemed to have no shame in expressing his opinions at any time, usually under his breath, very close to Aziraphale’s ear. Such behavior would usually annoy him to no end, but Crowley’s candor and small jabs at several of the modern twists in the story made him smile, distracting him from a few liberties taken by the production on some of the finer points of the story.

After leaving the theatre, they leisurely walked to the restaurant Aziraphale had carefully selected. If leaving the production choice to Crowley had been hard on the bookseller, letting him choose their food options for the night was unthinkable. That particular conversation on the phone had left him both amused and slightly vexed at the red-head’s apparent disregard for fine cuisine.

And so Aziraphale led the way to a rather nice Italian restaurant, where he had been a regular patron for some time now.

“Now, my dear, I do not know if Obicà will be to your liking, but I assure you that they have-“

Crowley gently squeezed Aziraphale’s hand, which was tucked through his arm.

“I’m sure I’ll love it, Angel,” he grinned.

They were quickly seated at a table, near the back, by a very nice young woman who recognized Aziraphale the second he came in, greeting him with an inquisitive raise of the eyebrow at the sight of his date. Crowley had teased him mercilessly while they read through the menu, amused by both the looks they were receiving and the fact that the fussy bookseller seemed to be well known.

“So…” he drawled with a smirk. “D’you bring a lot of dates here?”

Aziraphale felt himself blush and hid his face behind the menu, pretending to be torn between two scrumptious-looking pasta dishes.

“Don’t be daft,” he said haughtily. “The staff are simply used to seeing me on my own.”

Crowley took a menu in hand, squinting at the small script, before giving up.

“What’s good around here? Got any recommendations?”

Aziraphale instantly lit up, lowering his menu and happily blabbering his favorites at the very amused yoga instructor. Crowley listened to him with a fond smile, taking off his sunglasses to gaze at the fussy man in front of him.

“However,” Aziraphale finished his ramble. “You really cannot go wrong with the _aubergine parmigiana_. It is one of my absolute favorites!”

“Yeah? Alright I’ll take that.”

They bantered good-naturedly about the play while waiting for their food. Aziraphale could see the merits in getting the younger generations interested in classics, as long as they didn’t flock to his shop to get the books and scripts later on. Crowley had laughed at that, asking why he owned a shop if he disliked selling his books so much.

“You cannot expect me to leave these books in the hands of… the general public…”

Crowley had laughed at the obvious disdain dripping from the bookseller’s voice. That had been an interesting conversation.

Aziraphale was just finishing his tale of good investments and lucky finds in auction houses when their server came back with their dishes. He started salivating at the mere smell, losing no time in thanking the young person before digging in. Crowley poked at his own plate, trying to figure out where to start.

Aziraphale took a small bite, a pleased hum escaping him as the flavors burst onto his tongue. He was enjoying himself with barely contained pleasure, until he caught Crowley staring, his fork stopped in mid-air. He immediately dropped his own fork, flustered.

“Oh, I- that is, sorry dear boy, I-“ he stammered.

Blinking slowly, Crowley tilted his head to the side. “What’s wrong Angel? What are you apologizing for?”

“Well, I know I… I understand what you told me before- about my shape, I mean- but it- I know that I… I’ve been told that I might… enjoy food a bit too much. “ He squirmed on his seat, slightly ashamed. “I know it can be… off-putting, to say the least, and-“

“Whoa there, Angel,” Crowley gripped his hand on the table, bringing the blonde’s attention back to him. “Nothing’s wrong with enjoying your diner, what are you going on about? Off-putting? No!”

Crowley’s eyes bored into Aziraphale’s, keeping him enthralled and unable to look away.

“Far from it, Angel.” He continued, squeezing softly on the pudgy hand in his grasp. “Look uh- I- I like seeing you enjoy yourself. _A lot_. It’s far from- from being _off putting_.”

Seeing Aziraphale’s wary expression, he kept going. “Look, I may not like to eat as much as you do- and again there’s nothing wrong with that, Angel- but it’s… in a way it’s like yoga, yeah? Like, it’s a sensuous experience, that your body enjoys and takes pleasure in?”

“I- I’m not sure it’s exactly the same.” Aziraphale disagreed, but already felt more in a bantering mood than a self-deprecating one.

“More than you think, Angel,” he pushed. “’S the same. Something that your body needs, but that you also take pleasure in. Like sleeping too, big fan of sleep myself. It’s not a bad thing, and you shouldn’t be ashamed of enjoying yourself. Ever.”

He cleared his throat, his voice slightly rough. “I like seeing people enjoy sensuous- and sensual- pleasures. It’s– well, it’s pretty attractive.”

“O-Oh.” Aziraphale answered flatly. He wasn’t quite sure he understood all that, but all the same, Crowley’s words incited fuzzy feelings in his chest. He also thought Crowley looked particularly dashing with his pink cheeks.

By the end of their dinner date, Aziraphale had learned quite a lot about his companion- “Anthony?” “You don’t like it? I don’t, Crowley’s just fine.” -and the company he kept- “If you knew anything about hognoses, Angel, you’d know why her name’s Diva.”

It had taken some probing, but he had also shared some of the more complicated aspects of his family dynamic with Crowley.

“It’s not that I don’t like them, Crowley. It’s simply that they are quite boisterous, and it is a bit too much for me.”

“I think you should let that wanker know what you really think.”

“Gabriel is _family_.”

“Still…”

Their easy conversation continued on the way back to the bookshop. At one point, Aziraphale’s hand had found itself on Crowley’s arm once more. They walked slower than they had before, a shared will to make the evening last just a bit longer.

For the first time in his life, the sight of his beloved bookshop made his stomach sink. It had truly been a wonderful night, and he didn’t want to see Crowley leave.

“Looks like we’re here already.”

Both men faced each other on the stoop, Aziraphale’s back to the door. They were silent, gazing in each other’s eyes. It was a delicate dance of gauging each other, trying to evaluate what the other wanted, hoped.

Neither wanted to say goodbye just yet.

Aziraphale broke the silence.

“Would- would you like to come in?”

Crowley took a deep breath, before smiling sadly.

“I’d love to, Angel,” he started. “But I teach a class at 8 tomorrow. I should get home.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale lowered his gaze, crestfallen.

A hand caught his, making him look up in surprise.

“Maybe next time?”

“N-next time?”

A happy grin answered his question. Crowley took a step back, tucking his hands in his jacket.

“See you on Wednesday, Angel.”

And with that, he departed, leaving Aziraphale’s heart hammering in his chest. Once more, he went to bed with a dreamy smile on his lips.

~~~

Aziraphale arrived much earlier than usual on the next Wednesday, making his way to the studio almost half an hour before class began. He was greeted by Tracy, an eccentric-looking older woman who taught dancing classes on Friday evenings. He had met her a few classes ago, and found her delightful, if a bit odd.

“Good evening, my dear madam.”

“Mr. Fell, you’re early,” she said as she signed him in for the night. “Any reason in particular?”

“Well, I was hoping to make use of the yoga room before class, center myself a bit. Got a lot of nervous energy today, you see.” He clasped his hands together to stop himself from fidgeting. “If that is allowed?”

He raised his eyebrows and was met with a kind smile and a wink.

“Go ahead dearie,” she answered, a hint of teasing in her voice. “It’s not being used at the moment, unless some of the instructors are meditating, but they won’t mind.”

Aziraphale thanked her warmly before hurrying to the changing rooms.

Once clad in his yoga clothes, he silently checked the yoga room and took his place at the back, relieved to find it empty.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

From the moment he woke up that morning, he had felt restless, his mind so focused on the coming session- and its lovely instructor- that even his books didn’t bring him any comfort.

Now, it’s not that he had anything to worry about. Crowley and Aziraphale had been texting almost nonstop since their date, and Aziraphale wasn’t scared at all that things would be awkward.

Not really.

Maybe a little.

But things would be great, no reason to fret. Taking a nice cross-legged position, Aziraphale closed his eyes and took a deep breath, holding it in for a few seconds before letting it go. Already, his train of thought was gently settling, his nervousness quieting with each breath he took after the first one. Without opening his eyes, Aziraphale slowly stretched his upper body, arms coming to rest behind him, then slowly crawling in front of him as he folded himself over.

Deep breath, hold it in, release.

Coming back to center, he opened his eyes. He barely jumped, relaxed as he was, at the sight of the lovely red-haired man watching him with an easy smile.

“Evening, Angel.” Crowley greeted him softly, so as to not disturb his peace. He unrolled his own mat at the front of the room, elegantly folding himself on it as he copied Aziraphale’s pose.

“Hello, my dear.” Aziraphale smiled back, and content in the silence, closed his eyes once more. He vaguely heard Crowley greet the rest of the students as they came, and returned to the present only when the Them took their places around him.

This particular session, they mostly stayed on the floor, focusing on deep stretching and flexibility. Nobody was anywhere near as flexible as their instructor, but Aziraphale was glad to find himself somewhere in the middle, instead of at the bottom as he had expected.

It was a very soothing class- Crowley had dimmed the lights more than usual- and by the end of it, as they transitioned into _shavasana_ , the corpse pose, Aziraphale felt like he was floating on his mat.

It took everyone longer than usual to come back to the present, but the Them lost no time demanding another demonstration from their instructor. As usual, everyone crowded the front of the class, asking Crowley to demonstrate whatever strange pose they had searched on the Internet before class, each pose increasing in complexity.

Aziraphale stayed behind, where he could ogle him freely. Glad that nobody could see his blush, he watched as Crowley rested his whole weight onto his forearms, legs bent over himself like a scorpion tail. Next, he moved onto his left shoulder and hand, legs high in the sky - the fallen angel pose, he heard Wensleydale whisper to his friends - and finished with the mermaid pose before letting them all know that would be all for the night. Ignoring the complaints, he turned his gaze to Aziraphale, who was still hanging in the back. An amused smirk lifted the corners of his mouth. Aziraphale felt his blush deepen and quickly moved back to his mat, taking his time to roll it up and calm his beating heart.

He said his goodbyes to the teenagers when they left, and soon, only Crowley and he were left in the room.

“So,” Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Did you like today’s demonstration?”

Aziraphale’s glare was rendered slightly less effective by his reddening cheeks. Crowley smirked, obviously pleased with the results of his teasing.

“Oh, I know very well what you are doing, you fiend.” His words held a fondness that made Crowley blush in turn.

Nevertheless, he cocked his head to the side.

“You didn’t answer the question,” he teased mercilessly. “You didn’t give me any feedback, at the end.”

“It was, ehm, very inspiring.”

“Inspiring, really?”

“Oh,” Aziraphale cried, turning his back to him and starting to walk toward the changing room. “I will not justify this with an answer!”

“H-hey! Wait up!” The instructor rolled his mat, getting his things ready. “Just let me grab my stuff and I’ll walk with you.”

Aziraphale stopped at the door. Regardless of Crowley’s teasing, he did not want this moment to end. Feeling strangely loosened up from the session, he gathered his wits.

“Would you like to, perhaps…”Aziraphale hoped he wasn’t too forward. “I have this very nice bottle of Pinot and- and it would be a shame to, uh, to drink it on my own.”

Crowley cocked his head to the side, eyes twinkling.

“Are you inviting me to your place, Angel?”

“Well, yes, I believe I am.”

“Sure, I’d love to. A drink sounds great right now.” Crowley crouched down to get his shirt and water bottle. “I can’t stay too late, though, still got a class in the morning.”

“O-Of course!” Aziraphale was thrilled. Slightly nervous as well, but he did his best to bury his anxious thoughts under all the excitement at having the beautiful red-haired man in his home.

Hopefully he wouldn’t mind the mess too much.

~~~

Aziraphale could feel his heart beating faster in his chest. Crowley was in his home, discarding his jacket on the back of a chair, acting like this wasn’t a big deal at all.

Maybe it really wasn’t.

“’S a nice place you got.” The red-haired man said as he looked around the small flat. “You weren’t kidding when you said you had a lot of books.”

Aziraphale quickly walked around him, picking up the few volumes scattered on the couch and small table and putting them back on an already crowded bookshelf.

“Yes, well,” he started, embarrassed by the clutter of his home. “I-I don’t often have visitors, you see.”

“Nothing wrong with it, Angel.” Crowley was looking at the various knick knacks on the shelves. “I like it. Feels comfortable. Homey.”

“O-Oh.”

Once he got over his nervousness at having Crowley in his home, somehow, his presence felt normal to Aziraphale. He had thought he would feel exposed, vulnerable, with all of himself on display on his walls- and on the furniture, and on the ground- in the shape of his books, but he felt none of it. Just an overwhelming sense of _rightness_.

“How about you get comfortable while I get this bottle opened?”

“Sure.” Crowley sprawled himself over one end of the couch, and the very sight of this lanky, stunning man making himself at home _in his flat_ did strange things to Aziraphale’s heart. He hurried to the small kitchen, grabbing a bottle from where it was cooling, along with two glasses. There wasn’t much space to sit with the books laying around, and so Aziraphale carefully sat down next to Crowley, their knees touching slightly with how spread out Crowley was.

They talked well into the evening, bouts of banter interrupted by trips to the kitchen to get another bottle.

“I really appreciate you,” Aziraphale eventually said. He couldn’t bring himself to look Crowley in the eye, even with the wine considerably loosening his tongue. “You’ve changed my life, or the classes did, rather. But… spending time with you like this, it’s- what I mean to say…”

Crowley’s hand came to rest on Aziraphale’s arm, stopping his rambling. Aziraphale’s eyes widened, mouth shutting as the warm fingers started to gently rub circles on the fabric of his jumper.

“Breathe, Angel,” he said softly, and the blond released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “’S alright. I feel the same.”

Amber and blue eyes met, and neither man spoke for a bit, simply enjoying each other’s presence and warmth as they seemed to gravitate toward each other.

“My dear,” Aziraphale spoke softly. His eyes dropped to the other’s lips. “Could I…would it be okay to- “

“Y-yeah.” Crowley’s voice was barely above a whisper. Aziraphale closed the distance between them, his lips brushing against Crowley’s in a soft, tentative kiss.

It didn’t last long, but left them breathless and red-faced, both letting out a soft nervous giggle before going in for another kiss. Aziraphale’s hand gently held the back of Crowley’s neck, keeping him close as their lips moved against each other.

Crowley moaned into the kiss, a sound that reverberated through Aziraphale’s whole body, making him whine in turn.

After a while, Crowley detached himself from the blond, soothing his grumbling with another small peck on the lips.

“Sorry Angel,” he said sheepishly. “’S getting pretty late.”

“Oh, of course, I’m sorry I- “ he was cut off by another small kiss, accompanied by a chuckle.

“Next time.” Aziraphale didn’t have time to wonder what _next time_ meant, that Crowley was already getting up and stretching, distracting him from his questioning.

He still found himself worrying about the taller man, the haze of his wine consumption not having completely erased his sensible side.

“Will you be alright to get home?” he asked with a hint of concern.

Crowley smiled fondly, a hand coming to rest on Aziraphale’s cheek.

“’Course, Angel.” He kissed the corner of his mouth, making Aziraphale swoon. “Walk me to the door, will you?”

With one last kiss at the door, Crowley went out into the cold night, his jacket tightly closed around his thin frame. Aziraphale stayed in front of the door for a moment, lingering in the memory of the night and the fleeting feeling of Crowley’s lips over his.

~~~

The end of the yoga sessions arrived so quickly that Aziraphale didn’t see it coming. On the very last class, most of the time was spent talking about their experience, about what they had appreciated, what could be better. Crowley had taken every comment in stride, making notes on a small pad. Many people expressed a desire to rebook another 8 weeks of yoga with Crowley. One very eager middle-aged woman asked about private sessions, which made Aziraphale raise an eyebrow and Crowley cackle.

Unfortunately, as the instructors rotated through the classes and given the level they were currently at, anyone rebooking would be put in Anathema’s class this time around. Crowley would be off to teach the higher-level yogis, and while he praised them all for their progress, he insisted that they were not quite there yet.

Aziraphale felt a pang in his chest at the idea that he wouldn’t get to spend as much time with Crowley, regardless of said time being spent in a room full of other people demanding his attention. That didn’t stop him from putting his name down at the end of the session for a spot in Anathema’s class, however. Aziraphale was quite curious to see how the two differed in their approaches, and he had enjoyed himself too much to give up on such a rewarding activity.

And he would still get to see Crowley outside the studio, he said to himself, full of hope.

And maybe this new schedule would finally allow him to _stay longer_ after their dates.

As it turned out, Crowley now instructed on early evenings rather than in the morning and late nights, which was both a blessing and a curse. It allowed them to spend much more time together on the weekends, but it also meant that they had to get more creative on their dates, to accommodate Crowley’s new working hours. They had taken to lunch dates, with Aziraphale closing the shop for a full hour in order to enjoy a long walk and a quick bite with the subject of his affections. They usually went to the park, either hand-in-hand or Aziraphale’s arm slipped around Crowley’s, when he felt particularly romantic.

Crowley would often come by the shop after work to share a good bottle and a bit of banter until late at night. Aziraphale would let him leave with a peck on the mouth- that more often than not escalated into a full snogging session on the doorstep- and would wait for his goodnight text before going to bed.

Things were rather good. Better than Aziraphale could have hoped for. While he had never felt the overwhelming urge to share his life with anybody, he loved Crowley’s company. His teasing, his flair for the dramatic and his strong opinions on everything, from ducks’ anger-management issues to the state of the country and the rumored drop in liquor quality in most of London’s pubs. He always had something to add- and always seemed to know which button to push to fluster the poor bookseller- making him the most interesting conversation partner Aziraphale ever had.

His good looks and incredible kissing skills were merely a very welcome bonus.

Aziraphale was happy. Incredibly happy.

On one particular outing, they had decided to avoid London’s rain in favor of a longer lunch, going to a new place near the yoga studio. Aziraphale was, as usual, rather eager to try out new food. Crowley was more than content to spend a full hour watching him enjoy himself, nibbling on whatever snack they had.

They were quite content, casually arguing about the pairing of white wine with salmon when a shadow loomed over them.

“Zira! I didn’t expect to see you here!”

Dread filled Aziraphale when he recognized the voice of his infuriating cousin. Swallowing his nervousness with a quick glance at Crowley, he raised his eyes to the towering man.

“Gabriel. What an unexpected pleasure.”

“Haven’t seen you in a few weeks, Sunshine! But I should have known I’d find you in one of these new hype restaurants around town. They’re opening everywhere, you must have been busy lately!”

His feathers ruffled, Aziraphale pointedly glared at Gabriel.

“Please Gabriel. As you can see, I am currently with someone, and you are being quite rude.”

“Yeah, I see that. I didn’t think you had it in you, being seen out with a-” Crowley cut him off right there, lowering his glasses to better glare at the taller man.

“Anthony Crowley. I’m Aziraphale’s boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” he repeated stupidly, raising an eyebrow at Aziraphale. The blond didn’t acknowledge it, his own gaze fixed on the red-haired man sitting in front of him.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting that when I saw you two at the bookstore door, the other night. Thought something else entirely!” He chuckled, elbowing his smaller cousin and gripping his shoulder.

Aziraphale was mortified, whether on Crowley’s account or his own, he didn’t know. Huffing, he curtly dislodged his shoulder from under Gabriel’s hand.

“I’ll see you some other time,” he said, turning his whole body away from his cousin and toward Crowley. “I am quite busy at the moment. Good day, Gabriel.”

He missed the look on Gabriel’s face, but the smirk that adorned Crowley’s told him what he needed. After a moment, Crowley started cackling, obviously more amused than offended.

“What’s this guy’s deal? Did he really imply that I’m a hooker?”

Biting his lip, Aziraphale frowned.

“Don’t be so crude my dear.” He took a sip from his glass, trying to distract himself from the _implications_. “I’m so sorry for this, he has always been a terrible prig. And he is so loud.”

Crowley grinned sheepishly. “I hope you don’t mind. Boyfriend, I mean. We haven’t talked about it.”

Red-faced, Aziraphale smiled sweetly, taking one warm hand in his.

“I don’t mind at all, dear boy. I have been referring to you as my _romantic partner_ for a while. In my head, I mean. That is, if- if you-“

“Yeah, romantic partners,” Crowley blushed. “I like that.”

After their meal, they walked back to the bookshop, Aziraphale’s hand securely held in Crowley’s. The air was cold, but Aziraphale had never felt warmer, Crowley’s warmth seeping through their linked hands and making him flush with affection. They went up the flat, unwilling to let go of each other even to remove their boots and jackets, and crashed on the couch in a giggling tangle of legs. Their lips found each other, first in soft caresses, hands on each other’s faces and necks, before getting more heated. Crowley leaned further over Aziraphale, searching for a better angle. Love bloomed in Aziraphale’s belly, a soft want for closeness that got bigger with each glide of Crowley’s fingers through his messy curls.

They didn’t know who deepened the kiss, but soon their tongues were gliding against one another. Hands grasped clothes as Crowley moved to straddle Aziraphale’s hips, lips smiling against his neck. Aziraphale gasped at the contact, earning himself a soft chuckle. Letting go of any doubts he had left, the blond slipped his hands under the thin thighs and showed off his strength, grabbing the yelping Crowley and carrying him to the bedroom, where he got to see exactly how flexible he was.

Later that night, Aziraphale fell asleep with Crowley’s arms wrapped tightly around him, keeping him flush against a thin chest. Wiry chest hair tickled him, and the heat made him slightly sweaty, but Aziraphale had never felt this comfortable in his life, pressed against this adorable snoring ginger. He let himself drift off, guided by the strong heartbeat under his ear.

~~~

Morning found them still tangled up together, bodies lax and warm against each other. Aziraphale slowly opened his eyes, taking a moment to get his bearings, and smiled at the feeling of wiry arms still wrapped tightly around his torso. Crowley had moved during the night, and a leg had wrapped around his. Very much like a snake refusing to let go of his prey, Aziraphale mused with a fond smile. He spent some time gazing adoringly at his lover, giggling silently at how adorable he looked, with his elegant face smooshed into the pillow, a small pool of drool dampening the fabric.

He could get used to this, to waking up with the scent and sight of Crowley in his sheets.

After a moment, his body reminded him of why he woke up, and he started the tedious process of untangling himself from Crowley’s octopus grab. Soothing the small whine with a kiss on one high cheekbone, Aziraphale left the bed to start his day.

He took care of his morning routine and settled in his favourite chair with a nice cup of tea. The sunlight, filtered through the sheer curtains, casting its light on the mess in the room. Aziraphale took a sip from his cup, thinking he could maybe tidy a little before Crowley got up. They could sit together on the couch, maybe get some pastries delivered. They would need to go their separate ways when the time came to open the shop, but for some reason, that thought didn’t bother him too much. They would see each other later, maybe the day after. It didn’t matter, as long as they got more of these moments together.

Aziraphale closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath.

_Breathe in._

_Hold._

Fully immersed in the present moment, and certainly not for the last time, he felt happy.

_Release._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, my longest fic is finished. It might not seem like a lot, but it's the most words I've ever written. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading this story, I hope you like it! 
> 
> I appreciate all your kudos and comments, you all make me smile.


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